Chapter 88 - Investigation - 4

It was Count Vaishur who broke the awkward atmosphere that had plagued them from the outset.

"Shall we set off, then?"

"Oh, yes."

Renée answered and took a deep breath, her fingers tightening around Bera's.

"... Saintess."

"I'm all right."

Renée turned toward Bera, a smile spreading across her face.

"You'll protect me, won't you?"

She trusted him to protect her. At those words, Bera bit his lip, then let out a long breath.

"You must stay close to me. If anything is wrong, please tell—"

"That's enough nagging."

"... Yes."

Left unchecked, he would have gone on nagging for quite some time. Renée was decidedly unhappy that he still had so little faith in her, but it was not as though she could not understand him. She simply conveyed her feelings by gently curling her hand around his.

"Ahem, ahem! Let us be off, then!"

Albrecht had recovered his composure by now. At his words, the group began walking toward the alleys farther within—the gutter.

* * *

The air changed in an instant.

They had only entered one more alley, taken no more than a few steps farther in, yet it felt as though they had arrived in an entirely different place.

The first thing Renée noticed was the stench. It was not merely the stink of filth. It was stronger than that, a thick, cloying stench best described as turning her stomach inside out.

And that was not all. The moisture touching her exposed skin was repulsive, and the squelch of every step echoed like a sound inside a cave, perhaps bouncing off the objects around them.

It was shocking. Appalling, too.

Even without sight, she could tell. Not even the most basic standards of hygiene were observed here.

The unpleasant prickling whenever the air touched her skin, the stench that threatened to make her retch, and the sticky sensation clinging to the soles of her shoes all told her as much.

'How...'

How had he lived here as a little child, without even his parents?

The thought came from her disbelief that the young Bera had survived in a place where she could scarcely imagine anyone living at all.

Beneath her black-dyed hair, her lowered eyes trembled precariously. At some point she had begun biting her lip, and her hand gripped his more tightly than ever.

"Saint—"

"I'm all right."

She tried to sound as though she was fine, but an unmistakable tremor slipped into her voice. It was a tremor of sadness.

Hearing it herself, Renée steadied her resolve once more.

She must not worry Bera. She had come to help him; she could not let him see her being so pathetic.

Gathering herself with that single thought, she addressed Rohan, who was walking ahead.

"Rohan, if you would, please."

"Ah, yes, ma'am."

Rohan was not faring well either.

He had raised an arm over his nose to block the smell, but the stench still seeped through, leaving his face twisted into an unsightly grimace.

'This'll be hard to get used to.'

It certainly deserved to be called the continent's worst den of vice.

He could tell at once.

An ordinary person's body would struggle to endure this place. Someone who had lived here from the beginning might adapt to some degree, but an outsider would undoubtedly fall ill before long.

Suddenly, a picture of utter despair began forming in Rohan's mind.

'If the missing people really were brought here...'

Most of them would be dead. No—even if they were alive, they would not be able to live as they had before. Returning to their old lives would require a very long recovery.

Rohan's face tightened into a fierce scowl.

'... No.'

He shoved all those thoughts aside. He could not let idle imaginings undermine his concentration.

'Let's get this over with and get out of here, damn it.'

Rather than spend time worrying like this, he ought to find the missing people as quickly as possible.

Having settled his thoughts, Rohan opened his hand and gathered divine energy above it.

SHHH...

Indigo divine energy formed a sphere. Characters appeared above it, circling the sphere like a ring of satellites orbiting a planet. Rohan watched the framework of the sacred art take shape, then added his divine power.

It was the power of direction, a power that sought out those in despair and guided them to a place of hope.

'I'm looking for outsiders.'

People other than themselves who had not been here long enough to become part of the place. People whose abrupt change in surroundings would fill them with deep despair.

The sphere hummed. Two more rings joined the sacred art.

The tracking art [Twilight].

Rohan exhaled briefly, then held the completed art out before Renée.

"Saintess, you can use your power on this."

They had already discussed this before coming.

Renée would imbue Rohan's completed art with her divine power to improve its accuracy. That would drastically reduce the time needed for the search.

With Bera guiding her hand, Renée rested it over the indigo sphere and layered white divine energy over it.

She added a prayer.

'May it go in the right direction...'

May this help them find those who had vanished.

The rings surrounding the sphere turned pure white.

"It's done."

At Bera's words, Renée withdrew her divine energy, and Rohan took a step back. He then explained to Albrecht and the count, who had been staring blankly at the sphere until that moment.

"Just follow wherever this sphere goes."

"Ah, hmm! Understood!"

"I'll send it off, then."

Rohan lightly tossed the sphere into the air. It hovered, then began flying very slowly.

"Oh...!"

Albrecht's eyes sparkled as he exclaimed in wonder at the sphere floating and flying on its own.

His reaction was perfectly understandable. How often did one have the chance to watch an apostle wield divine power?

The only problem was that Rohan, whose discomfort had already shot through the roof, did not look kindly on Albrecht's reaction.

"What do you mean, 'oh'? Enough of that. Let's go."

Albrecht's expression crumpled at the rebuke.

* * *

They would not venture too deep on the first day.

That plan had become laughable.

Once [Twilight] began flying, it headed straight toward the deepest part of the gutter.

What should they do? Retreat and try again another day?

There was no such hesitation.

Everyone present knew they could not afford further delay, and their fighting strength was more than sufficient.

Three apostles. Two knights. And was not one of those knights the current commander of the Imperial Knights and the wielder of Pure Blood?

Unless the danger was truly extraordinary, it would be stranger for such a force to lose. Thus, the group continued toward the deep pit.

After a long trek through mud that resembled a swamp, through stench and clammy air that pressed down on every inch of their skin, [Twilight] finally stopped.

"... It's the junk shop."

It was the junk shop used for black-market deals in the deepest part of the gutter—a small workshop, utterly dark and on the verge of collapse.

Looking at it, Bera suddenly recalled what Doran had told him during their recent encounter.

["Th-the junk shop... I heard they're sometimes seen around there."]

That had been his answer when Bera asked about the cartel that had filled the scavengers' place.

'... Was I right, then?'

The disappearances certainly seemed to be connected to that cartel.

"Shall we enter?"

Bera directed the question at Albrecht. Only then did Albrecht give a startled jerk and answer with a vigorous nod.

"Yes, let's go!"

SHING...

Albrecht drew Pure Blood, his face set with determination.

Bera frowned sharply at the sight.

"Put your sword away. No enemy has even appeared yet. What are you making such a fuss for?"

"Oh..."

Albrecht's expression grew crestfallen. Pure Blood returned to its scabbard.

Being constantly scolded ever since joining the apostles was beginning to leave him feeling depressed.

"... My mistake. I apologize."

"Never mind. Count."

"Ah, right."

Count Vaishur had been looking at the newly subdued Albrecht with an expression full of pity. At Bera's call, he reached inside his coat.

He brought out a small box—a location-tracking artifact, intended to signal their position to those outside in case anything went wrong.

The count activated the artifact and buried it in the ground. If they did not return before sunrise, Mari would come here.

With all their preparations complete, the count dusted off his hands and stood. Bera watched him, then spoke to Renée.

"... Saintess, you must stay close."

"Yes."

The group arranged themselves around Renée, guarding every direction.

Still not quite over his gloom, Albrecht shuffled up to the junk shop's door at the head of the group and opened it.

CREEEAK...

An unpleasant noise rang out. The interior was completely dark. Grimacing, Albrecht concentrated aura in his eyes and began examining the shop.

'... It's big.'

It was spacious—several times larger than it appeared from outside.

'The building itself is an artifact...'

A building enchanted with spatial expansion. That was certainly suspicious.

Albrecht raised a hand to stop the others from entering and began walking inside alone.

At that moment—

WHOOSH!

A dagger shot out of the darkness.

Having sensed it well in advance, Albrecht drew Pure Blood and knocked the flying dagger aside.

CLANG!

"Your Highness!"

"It's all right. I'll handle this alone."

Dismissing the count's cry, Albrecht turned a radiant smile on the group.

"Is it not a royal's duty to take the lead in protecting the people?"

Albrecht's white teeth shone in the darkness.

As he registered the ambush, he had thought that now was the time to change the impression that had earned him nothing but scolding.

It was time to prove that he was not someone to be bullied, but a brilliantly shining star.

Shadows rose from the darkness and rushed toward him.

Turning his head, Albrecht summoned his aura.

"Just watch."

The next instant, aura bore down on the entire space.

* * *

It was one-sided. Calling it a battle would be a stretch; massacre was a better word for the scene. Of course, the outcome had been inevitable from the moment Albrecht drew Pure Blood.

The sword that governed the flow. The treasure of kings.

With a Masterpiece that could seize control of a space simply by being infused with aura in Albrecht's hand, such an ambush could never succeed.

Bera's gaze pierced the darkness.

Where cold metallic sounds had rung out, only Albrecht remained standing.

Realizing it was over, Bera sheathed the Holy Sword he had been holding.

"... It's over."

"Already?"

"Yes."

Bera's eyes narrowed.

'An ambush.'

That meant they had already known the group would come.

'There shouldn't have been any way for that to leak.'

Suspecting anyone here would be absurd. That went without saying for himself, Renée, and Rohan, but the same held true for Albrecht, who was fighting over there, and the count. Why would those two request their help only to prepare for an ambush and deal with the attackers themselves?

'There's something behind this.'

This might not be merely a cartel's doing.

As that thought darkened Bera's expression—

"Hmm, that wasn't even a warm-up."

Albrecht emerged from the darkness with a radiant smile. Hearing his cheerful voice, Renée offered an awkward smile in reply.

"Thank you for your hard work."

"Hard work? Not at all. I merely did what was only natural."

He spoke brightly, placing his right hand over the left side of his chest. Bera clicked his tongue, ignored Albrecht, and addressed Rohan.

"What about Twilight?"

"... It's pointing farther inside."

Rohan frowned as he restrained Twilight, which struggled in his grasp.

"... Let's go in."

Rohan entered the darkness, and the others followed.

Their feet bumped against corpses, but the darkness still concealed the bodies' features.

"I'm lighting the place up."

With that, Rohan summoned indigo divine energy to illuminate their surroundings.

"...!"

The entire group froze.

Silence devoured the space.

Identical expressions of horror appeared on every face.

It was the revealed scene—the corpses lying there—that had left them so.

"This is..."

The stunned voice belonged to the count.

As he examined the faces of the corpses on the floor, goosebumps spread over his entire body.

Their builds, ages, and sexes all differed.

So did the positions in which they lay and the weapons they had held.

Yet every face bore exactly the same features.

"... Anna?"

The word slipped from Rohan's mouth.

His eyes widened as though they would tear as he stared at the corpses—all of them.

It was a face he knew.

The face that every one of these corpses bore atop its neck was one he already knew.

The woman he had met eight years ago, when he came to see the Empire's festival. It was her.

What on earth had happened?

What was going on?

As his inner landscape wavered, Rohan lost control of his divine energy, and Twilight moved.

It flew onward. The group's gazes followed it.

The slowly floating Twilight finally stopped and settled...

...on a corpse's chest.